FEATURE: Spotlight: Black Country, New Road

FEATURE:

Spotlight

PHOTO CREDIT: Matilda Hill-Jenkins for Loud and Quiet

Black Country, New Road

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IT is remiss of me…

Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

to have excluded Black Country, New Road from this feature. The band are one of the brightest we have in Britain. Black Country, New Road formed in London in 2018. They consist of Isaac Wood, Tyler Hyde, Lewis Evans, Georgia Ellery, May Kershaw, Charlie Wayne and Luke Mark. I think they are one of the most interesting bands around. Many are hailing their debut album, For the first time, as the best album of 2021. I will bring in a couple of reviews for the stunning album soon. Before that, it is worth sprinkling in some interviews. Although they formed three years ago, the debut album of this year has brought them to the attention of the masses. They have a growing fanbase at the moment. I think Black Country, New Road will grow bigger and bigger as touring recommences. The first interview that I want to drop in is from The Guardian. We discover more about a fascinating and eclectic young band:

“From Cambridgeshire, they formed in 2018 when barely in their 20s, and quickly whipped up a fervent following. Pre-lockdown saw sellout tours on the back of two 7in singles – Athens France and Sunglasses – both of which go for daft money on Discogs. They even have unofficial merch to keep an eye on: a sour IPA by the Cheltenham brewery DEYA called I Am Locked Away in a High-Tech, Wraparound, Translucent, Blue-Tinted Fortress, named after the lyrics from Sunglasses. “We were a bit peeved they didn’t let us know,” says Evans. “We didn’t even get any free cans.”

BC,NR formed when their previous band, Nervous Conditions, ended abruptly after their singer was accused of sexual assault (he apologised, and said the accusations “fill me with sadness and horror, as they don’t fit with my memory”). They reassembled without him, guitarist Isaac Wood stepping in as singer. “Things were intense and emotionally difficult,” he says. “We were struggling and fragile but the new group represented something very important.”

Hyde agrees: “I had no choice but to carry on making something with these people – I’m so emotionally and musically connected to them.”

These disparate styles are turned into music that is exuberantly fresh and youthful, the product of what the band say is a seamless and democratic creative process. “We’re so close that we wouldn’t feel uncomfortable telling someone an idea is a bit shit,” says Evans. “Music for some songwriters is like their baby, but that’s never been our ethos. We change songs all the time and the ability to let go is really important in a seven-person band. You don’t want to be dictatorial. There are six other voices that are incredibly brilliant so what’s the point in ignoring them? It just makes the music worse. If it was up to me, our music would be shite.”

They are abundantly talented musicians – three of them classically trained – but given they formed unexpectedly, Wood’s learn-on-the-job role as lyricist and singer has been tumultuous. “I was scared performing,” he says of the early days. “Our original goal was simple: make music that translated on a shit sound system. There was no space for nuance because we needed it to impact in a small venue. Lyrics were rambling, flowing narratives with a line or two I’d shout for impact. It gave me room to whine about my problems but I was under the impression some things people wouldn’t be hearing.”

Wood’s lyrics – often delivered via caustic and self-deprecating spoken word, and dotted with references to pop-cultural figures from Kanye West to Black Midi – have been tweaked, with earlier versions seen as a failure; the two original singles have been reworked and re-recorded. “Either they change or we stop playing them,” says Wood, with Evans adding: “We’ve grown a lot. We feel like a new band”.

One of the most interesting and deep interviews the band have given comes from Loud and Quiet. Isaac Wood’s unique lyrics are discussed – we also learn more about the band’s great bond and humour:

“The band’s approach, along with Woods’ lyrics, feels like the formation of a new language; a distinctly Generation Z approach to musical overlap and hyper-awareness of the world around them as a result of a life lived in a forever switched-on digital age. The band are something of a hodgepodge ensemble who don’t fit the conventions of a traditional band – aesthetically they resemble more school trip outing than they do polished unit.

There’s a sort of wide-open, anything goes approach to both music making and listening today, where genres and dividing lines are no longer seen as key contributors in the building of scenes and tribes as there were for generations before – now they’re unnecessary hurdles in the way of experimentation and wider-exposure.

And yet, when I ask if BCNR feel like they are making music that feels inherently and distinctly of their generation, they disagree and cite Gen X-er Father John Misty as a huge influence. “I haven’t written a song since I first started listening to him,” Wood says. “I only started a month or two ago. I was like, ‘oh no’. He’s fucking awesome. I’d be delighted to be half as funny and emotionally resonant as he manages to be.”

Whilst some think FJM’s raging narcissism and superiority complex prevent him from striking this balance Wood speaks of, it’s clear they share some of the same approaches when it comes to creating characters that test and prod people.

PHOTO CREDIT: Matilda Hill-Jenkins for Loud and Quiet

“I’m not saying that I myself am not arrogant as a character,” Wood says, “but I am putting on a slightly more arrogant persona.”

Occasionally Wood’s response to questions about his own lyrics and character creations can be as enjoyable as the initial words themselves. When asked about the role of sex in his lyrics (“Fuck me like you mean it this time, Isaac”; “She tries to fuck me, I pretend that I’m asleep instead”) and how they explore a seeming anxiety and discomfort around sex that’s belied by his ability to publicly sing about it, he responds: “Songs about sex are never about sex. Just like songs about cars are never about cars – they are about sex. Like muscle cars and sex, things of great weight and fuel consumption tend to move us at speeds we cannot really control.”

There’s always a great sense of humour running through everything with the band, both as a group and in Wood’s lyrics and in responses to being asked about them. This amalgamation of humour and seriousness, along with blurred lines between sincerity and irony, feels intrinsic to the band not only in terms of interpersonal relationships but their musical and lyrical approach too. One of Wood’s impressions he likes to slip into is the writer David Foster Wallace, but he also mentions a fondness for some of his writings exploring irony and sincerity. This dichotomy is something that feels prominent in the lyrics; the kind of words that possess a biting, caustic, cynical edge to them but also project a tenderness, vulnerability and complexity that squashes one-dimensional readings. “In some of the authors’ or lyricists’ songs that I really like, they are not necessarily giving a direct evaluation of the things going on around them but simply describing them,” says Wood. “If you describe being on your phone or your laptop, you can interpret that as me saying how stupid and vacuous and empty that is, but that’s not really what I’m saying, it’s just describing the world that exists around you.”

Part of the band’s approach, and appeal, is that they are not pretending to be something they are not – which is far rarer than it sounds. They are not a message band, a political band, an issues band or one who wish to be seen as such in order to be relevant or on point. They are a group of middle class kids primarily from Cambridge and they are very aware of that. “Why pretend otherwise?” says Wood. “It’s who we are and it’s obvious.”

When asked what ties all seven of them together, he replies: “There’s not a single thing, I would say.” There’s some incredulous groaning and countering from the rest of the band and later on it’s decided that pop music and Kanye West are the universal connectors. “We are a pop band,” Mark says without hesitation. Kanye appears lyrically in a few songs too – most notably in the screeching proclamations of ‘Sunglasses’: “I’m more than adequate/ Leave Kanye out of this/ Leave your Sertraline in the cabinet.” “He’s an incredible recording artist,” says Wood simply of why he keeps appearing. “He’s got a good sense of humour, he’s obviously insane in a quite sad and unfortunate way for him at the moment. He’s said and done a lot of stupid stuff but I look at him almost like…”

“A father you never had,” chips in Wayne.

“It’s like you’re constantly batting for him but then he will always say something bad,” says Evans before extending his comment into a cricket metaphor that I don’t follow”.

The final interview I want to source from is from The Quietus. It is really interesting reading the different interviews and hearing what they have to say. One would think that a seven-piece would make for an awkward interview – though Black Country, New Road make it work. The fact that lockdown kicked in as the band were starting to get a lot of attention hasn’t affected a remarkable debut album:

“Back in the first rock & roll touring era (1950-2020) and looking in from Europe, Black Country, New Road were viewed as an intriguing minor mystery happening in London. One of the last British bands to be touted as the Next Big Thing and seen, however mistakenly, as a follow-up to Black Midi, whose scorched earth playing lit up some European festivals the previous summer. Deals were already in motion in the festivals of early 2020, dressed up as mid-morning seminars (replete with healthy buffets), where bookers came together to review the data on the bands they had seen.

Inevitably this idiosyncratic Gang Of Seven from Cambridge were heavily touted: a new product on the market where prime stock was evaluated and cultural value weighed up against a certain population’s need. The latest update on a new British rock trope, in fact, however pretentious, eccentric and Gen Z. There again British eccentricity, just like Oasis-style Brit laddishness, is tolerated and even loved in many places in Europe. And Black Country, New Road were the sort of band that could confirm a festival was on the money, aware of the heaving shifts and micro readjustments of wider underground culture.

But did Black Country, New Road really click on the mainland? Initially the hype around them felt rushed, unfinished. When seen live in European clubs, just before the crush of lockdown, the band stuck out as maybe too different. The quiet bafflement from some at festivals like MENT in Ljubljana and ESNS in Groningen was understandable. People brought up on sepia-tinged traditions and tropes of British pop invasions asked me, was this not a kind of joke? Wasn’t Black Country, New Road a haughty, austere band, in love with reading, and prickly when interviewed? I couldn’t say. Meeting them at a coronavirus-mitigated Haldern festival was an eye opener. In place of this fabled bunch of uptight swots, I met a gang of affable, witty, fun loving people whose intelligence and energy was channelled into their music and their group dynamic. Admittedly the Haldern 2020 experience was akin to a faerie glade in a heatwave, but as good a place as any to expunge any myths. And seeing them operate musically at close quarters quashed any doubts to their nascent brilliance.

And then, lockdown.

Still: the world is dealing with a here and now that feels very far away from the reality many had previously enjoyed. The world of popular music has collapsed in on itself; countries are viewed not from a tour bus but projected as a million back bedrooms on an LCD screen.

Let us be thankful for the small mercies then. Ready to be interviewed about life, a debut album and whatever else came to mind and as affable and chatty as I remembered, Evans and Hyde and guitarist Luke Mark crashed down on a communal couch whilst violinist Georgia Ellery Zoomed in. The inevitable question was tabled, maybe as a way of getting the bad stuff out of the way. Without coronavirus creating global chaos, Black Country, New Road would doubtless be playing a set of club gigs after a European tour and revving up for more of the same, promoting an album released on the very streetwise Ninja Tune. How had the band coped personally and professionally with this sudden ripping up of the blueprint?

Rather than relate a tale of woe and lost chances, the four delivered another, more intriguing story, mainly based around personal and artistic reevaluation. A good deal of the tracks on For The First Time had already been laid down and signed off in the studio, meaning that, according to Tyler, “It didn't feel we were too affected by lockdown, musically.” Time was spent in various ways, including a number of journeys of self-discovery which seemed, if Lewis was to be believed (and the pile of wood in the garden to be taken as evidence), to be “kind of nice”. And the chance to reassess what Black Country, New Road ‘was’ at this juncture after “being forced to chill the fuck out”, was unexpected but useful after the “whirlwind” of 2019. Tyler Hyde: “I’m not saying the momentum wasn’t great, it was; it was exciting. We could have been carried away and been blinded by the good things that were going on.” Self healing and personal recalibrations of the artistic psyche, including chopping down garden fences, was the order of the day”.

I think it is worth finishing with reviews regarding For the first time. Released through Ninja Tune, the six-track album is a sensationally rewarding and memorable listen. Coming back to Loud and Quiet. They were very impressed when they sat down to review the album:

“Black Country, New Road must be aware of the immense pressure being exerted on For The First Time. Heaped with praise after three singles, a wicked reputation as live performers and murmurs of “best rock band in the world” in the air, the group could’ve gone one of two ways with their debut; disregard your own hype, or face it head on. Clearly, they decided that the LP simply had to be a statement. To this end, ‘Opus’ acts as an expanded reprise of the opener ‘Instrumental’ – which at once recalls Eastern European klezmer music and a rock cover of an RPG battle theme – and ‘Track X’ is a gorgeous acid folk song crafted from pieces of melody and chord structures lifted from ‘Sunglasses’, giving off the ambition of Rush-flavoured multi-part suites without much of the pretence. While at times it could feel like a nagging lack of material, the self-referential musicality of For The First Time is neatly reflected in Wood’s self-referential lyricism. Passing references are made to fellow scenesters black midi and Jerskin Fendrix, along with Wood’s own Guest solo moniker. Then there’s the near-constant cropping-up of that elusive “Black Country”, a reminder that, while the group are London-based, they are not necessarily a London group. I’m left wondering what he means by it, and indeed what the band’s name refers to in the first place. Black Country; the region in the West Midlands, so-called for its centrality to the coal, iron, glass and steel industries in the early 19th century. New Road; a provocation; a different way of being and progressing. A militaristic advance.

When Wood isn’t referencing himself or his friends, other figures and aspects of a wider culture pepper his prose – Kanye West, The Fonz, Nutri-bullets, six-part Danish crime dramas, sourdough bread, ‘thank u, next’ – in a way that might seem gauche to the average songwriter. But these are more than just empty “references, references, references,” as Wood puts it in ‘Science Fair’. The repetition signifies an emptying kind of fatigue but, like Slint’s weird fiction of haunted Americana, the speakers of Black Country, New Road’s tall tales invoke a colourful, lived-in world full of stuff, and yet they are also plagued by loss – of people, places, culture and selfhood – only half-understood through the media they consume. The surly, privileged brat of For The First Time’s sprawling, nine-minute centrepiece ‘Sunglasses’ – re-tooled and fuelled by menacing forward momentum, improving on the winning formula of its 2019 seven-inch version – grumbles about endemic declines in British industry and values in a way that is at once a caricature and also full of feverish, Joycean poetic cadences. Often the perspectival quantum leaps feel like all-too-intimate portrayals of Wood himself, wracked with self-critique and guilt in the search for an authentic self. “Why don’t you sing with an English accent?” somebody asks him on ‘Athens, France’. “Well, I guess it’s too late to change it now,” he concludes. These songs feel very personal, pointed messages to former lovers and forgotten friends; fractal stories, always deeply-felt and engaging, whether we can tell what they’re directly about or not.

The losses felt across this album– some recognisable, others frustratingly lacking in discernible boogeymen – hold many mysteries as they play out across the dizzying comprehensiveness of the band’s music. What’s for certain though is that it feels like a fitting representation of living today. It’s becoming annoyed at Instagram ads that deign to represent your needs and wants. It’s a tacit reminder that genre doesn’t exist anymore – or rather never did. It’s history in the making, part two. It’s frustration felt at an American TV show for not representing your lived experience, and guilt on your part for not already living it. It’s Weezer meets The Fall meets Cardiacs meets Modest Mouse’s The Lonesome Crowded West, written in a bedsit rehearsal space far from home; but it’s more than just “the world’s second-best Slint tribute act”. Forget the best band in the world. This feels like everything a rock band can do”.

I shall end things with another glowing review. This one is from The Guardian. If you have not heard For the first time, then go and stream it or get it on vinyl. I would also recommend people follow them on social media. Anyway. This is what The Guardian wrote in their review:

“Unprecedented times or not, few will have foreseen that one of the best albums of 2021 would have combined the post-rock of early 90s cult band Slint with klezmer music and harrowing references to Bruce Springsteen and NutriBullets. Thesauruses have been worn out trying to describe this London-via-Cambridge seven-piece’s unholy marriage of intense, long-form guitar work and incandescent saxophone. Ultimately, Black Country, New Road push the “rock band” format as far as bands like Radiohead do.

There are a mere six tracks on their debut album. Two – Sunglasses and Athens, France – have been re-recorded from their previously released iterations to reflect many months of hard touring in which this fledgling punk orchestra (some conservatoire-trained, some self-taught) fully took wing. If the interplay between the band’s instruments makes gleeful mincemeat of genre, singing guitarist Isaac Wood’s equally remarkable lyrics regularly float to the top of the mix. Half-spoken, half-sung, they riff on granular scene references (“I told you I loved you in front of Black Midi”) and Gen-Z witticisms, but pack in plenty of timeless tenderness and anomie”.

I shall leave things there. I hope that Black Country, New Road enjoy massive success. Their debut album certainly shows that they have the talent and music to go a very long way! At the moment, I think they are best known in the U.K. and Europe – I am not sure how big their fanbase is in the U.S. Maybe they haven’t had much chance to play there before. I get the feeling that this…